The wheels on the bus seem not to want to go round and around we have now been by the side of the road for five hours. Im tired and hungry and my patients is thin on top. I want to sleep and eat and be there all at the same time, but its not happening. A man in boiler suit has laptop open, his hands are covered in grease as his tubby fingers move the mouse over vertical lines on a chart, the engine is working its being tested for everything before we get the green light to march on. 20 hours still ahead of us. I eagerly await the thumbs up from the lad with the laptop and spanner, i have nothing to offer him so i retreat to my room, my red bed. Big John the driver is by his side, Michael the other driver sleeps in his bunk as i read way too much into the revs of the engine two feet beneath me. I suppose i could have gone on the other bus but i was told we would be away in half an hour three hours ago, i can only trust in the process of being here and relax while God does his thing.

Back home Louise is in bed, in New York Natalie has arrived back in her apartment, i called Riley who is busy but I’m not sure what it is thats keeping him busy but he seems happy. I called Grace and Cissy in London who were having a roast diner, i salivated at the thought. Im beside myself with tiredness, the weight of the tour suddenly lands in my lap like a giant bird, if only this was Sesame Street. In the fridge on the bus yesterdays Sushi, some fruit, a few bagels and wheat bread for toast. Im spoilt for choice as we won’t be stopping once this bus gets rolling. The big bird wants my attention, my knees buckle, I’m fighting a losing battle on the outskirts of Battlefield Nevada. I scanned the map to see if i could find Nevada and where that place might be.

Later. Now we are off to the shop, the garage in English money, to have the engine fixed under cover, we are now 7 hours behind the others. When the bus stops I’m having some toast and some tea to bring some normal to the day, a day i will never reclaim from my life like so many before. Im bored of the bus now and want to be back in hotel World, still, stairs, lifts and food on a plate. The riggers of touring are many and i thought i had traded most of them in for a simpler life but it seems not. Im looking forward to the next bit, the mystery of more men in overalls with greasy hands fiddling with laptops and fuel pipes. Oddly i feel content in this void of travel, like a sheep being delivered to a farmer like a cloud being blown on the wind.

Much later. The news is that the bus is in the garage and we are waiting for a spare part, the problem is its 200 miles away so one driver is going to pick it up, we stop here tonight in the glamour of Elko. Look it up.  Gratitude is a wonderful thing it places me in the best of minds, and places, i have Step 3 i have gratitude to chew over in bundles while the bus weeps in the corner of a big grey shed. Thank God for small mercies.